Maybe you aren't my friend (ONE SHOT)
by Nutella1234
Summary: Harry has been turning to a destructive way of relieving his pain. He discovers, however, that he is not alone. Takes place after GOF. Self-Harm


**Hello all! This is just a meaningless story I randomly wrote. I've been having writer's block with my other story so I figured that maybe writing a small one similar to it with the same theme and all would help. Unfortunately, it hasn't :'( But whatever, I hope you enjoy reading this random one. **

It was only a moment, only a split second, that I saw it there. Your sleeves slid up as you reached for the potion ingredients and I saw it. The small, pale, thin scars covering the whole of your inner arms. So familiar to my bright green eyes. I had seen them before, up close, but covered in crimson. You notice my staring, so my eyes dart away to the corner, and then to my cauldron in front of me. I can see you trying to figure me out, but to no avail. You seem to have concluded that I did not see. But I did, and I can feel that I will not forget this soon.

We are released from the class and I gather my books, trying to leave as fast as I can. I want to get away. This room is smothering me with questions. However, I am still not free from the blanket covering me. They laugh at me and they taunt me in the hallways. They say it's all my fault he died. It is my fault that he died, but I do not like being reminded of it. It hurts worse that way. I fight back the stinging in my eyes and return to the dorms to gather my books. As I move them, I catch sight of my sharp little silver friend, waiting for me. I push him under the stand once more and leave, promising a visit later on.

The last class finally ends, and everyone goes to the Great Hall for a meal. I grab something small and then head out, away from everyone. I finish the biscuit I managed to grab and set back to the dorms. It's getting dark now. I wait in the common area pretending to read, until everyone goes to bed. It's about ten until I go sneaking back into the dorms. I can hear them all sleeping, the redhead is snoring. That's when I grab my friend. I almost do it right then, but then decide against it. I sneak out again and into the bathroom.

I lean against the wall and slide down to a sitting position. My friend is shiny in my palm and I take in a deep breath before sliding him across my arm. Crimson beads gather before spilling out of the wound. I let the breath out, relief coming to my body. The pain inside is fading.

I make another.

And then another.

And another.

As I watch the last cut spill over, I take my friend and slice across the cut. Too deep. Crimson pools on my arm at an alarming rate. I feel funny. It's never bled this much before. Or hurt so bad. I'm starting to get scared. I don't want to die. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he isn't my friend.

I look at the shiny thing and throw him across the room. I can hear my former friend clang against the tiles. I look back at my arm. The crimson has dripped fast on the floor. I know I need help. But I don't know who to go to. I don't want any of them to know about my cowardice. How I make myself feel real. As I'm looking at the older scars, I remember. I remember you. You had these scars. I know that you wouldn't make fun; no; you'd understand.

With a new determination, a determination to live, I get to my feet. My head spins. I've lost too much blood already. I make my way to the dungeons, barely keeping myself upright and slump against the wall. I raise my arm and bang on the door, breathing heavily. I feel sick. I wonder if I shouldn't have eaten that biscuit. I'm wondering if I might throw up, when I hear your harsh footsteps. I begin to question whether or not coming to you was the right idea. The latch rattles and the door is swung open. If I hadn't been so dizzy, I might have jumped. I can only look up, into your accusing onyx eyes.

I know you're about to yell at me, but I'm scared I'm going to die. I hold up my arm before you can say anything. The sleeve of my robe has stuck to the wounds. Blood is still dripping out onto the stone floor in an alarming amount. I can see your expression turning into something resembling surprise and you reach out to take my hand and with the other, you pull up my sleeve. Recognition flares in your eyes. You tell me to come inside. The door shuts behind us.

I follow you into the back of the classroom and I become dizzy again and stumble. You catch me and sit me down in a chair. I am glad you are not asking me questions. I came to you because you had all the answers. You seem to sense this. You are searching through your potions closet, pulling one out every once in a while until you have gathered three. You turn back to me and open the first one. My hand is shaking and I barely manage to put it to my lips. As soon as I down everything in it, I can feel warmth throughout my body. It must've been a blood replenisher. I'm still shaking though. You give me the next one. The sick feeling I had before begins to vanish. Then you hand me the last one. The shaking stops and I feel a lot better. You ask me if they helped. I nod.

You then take my arm and clean the wounds. The bleeding has now stopped, most likely from the potions. It's quiet, and the only sounds I can hear is your soft breathing and my slowing pulse. You put a bandage on the wounds and stand up to put away the antiseptic. You pull me up and lead me to the door, placing a potion in my hand as I am turning to leave. I say thanks and you nod; turning away; closing the door. I know I'm going to be okay. I then open my hand.

It's dreamless sleep.


End file.
